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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28982328">recognition</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyleaf101/pseuds/abbyleaf101'>abbyleaf101</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bi solidarity, Canon Asexual Character, Gen, Gen Fic, Pre-series Fic, TMA Mspec Week, ace puns, bi ace solidarity, friendship fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:01:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28982328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyleaf101/pseuds/abbyleaf101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Solidarity and recognition</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist &amp; Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>TMA Mspec Week 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>recognition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to bluejayblueskies and semnai for the beta and sensitivity read. Fic wouldn’t exist without the input and encouragement of dathen and pinehutch, who gets special thanks for providing the wonderful ace puns :D</p><p>pansy: symbolises thoughtfulness, love, care. Plus Tim might find some power in the reclaimed insult.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey! High five!” </p><p>“Wha - Tim!” Jon pressed a hand over his heart, chest heaving, startled out of his reverie by the unexpected noise. Tim stood barely a foot away, grin only slightly sheepish. And not at all apologetic about the near heart attack. </p><p>“High five!” Tim repeated, lifting an open palm up to Jon. Squinting suspiciously, Jon unfurled a hand from the strap of his messenger bag to tap his hand neatly against Tim’s. Long practice at indulging his coworker’s wilder whims meant they connected with a sharp slap, and Tim’s triumphant yell dragged a reluctant smile to Jon’s face. Absurd man. </p><p>“Why are we high fiving?” </p><p>“Bi buddies!” Tim replied, nodding to Jon’s coat. Bewildered, Jon darted a quick, panicked glance around them. Tim had lowered his voice, but he was still anxious not to have his personal life become the subject of office gossip. But they were alone - it was late, and despite the towering piles of books and open files scattered across their desks, anyone who could have overheard had long since gone home. Jon himself had only stood up to go for a smoke, grabbing his jacket to - </p><p>Oh. </p><p>Jon slapped a hand down over the lapel instinctively, the metal of the small flag affixed there cool against his palm. But they were alone, and he’d worn it on the Tube this morning and when he’d entered the building and - oh god - at lunch, when Tim and Sasha had teamed up to bully him into taking a break. And Tim had said buddies, so… After a moment’s hesitation, Jon dropped his hand and tweaked the tiny flag until the edge lay parallel to the line of his jacket. <br/>He’d forgotten it was there, is the thing. Usually he didn’t bother with a coat - the tube was less than five minutes from his flat, and the Institute was warm, and it wasn’t like he did much before or after that would warrant the hassle. But the closest Tube station was closed for renovations, and it seemed smarter to walk to the next one than risk the bus. But then there had been frost on his windows when he’d woken up. Therefore - jacket, retrieved from the back of the wardrobe next to his alumni hoodie and funeral suit. </p><p>The jacket he was belated remembered he’d last worn on an ill-fated date. </p><p>When he looked back up, Tim’s eyes had softened, although he was still grinning broadly. </p><p>Jon cleared his throat. “You said ah, ‘buddies’?” </p><p>“Yeah! Mine’s more permanent, though.” Tim lifted a hand and shook back the cuff of his shirt, undoing the small button at the wrist. As he rolled them back, Jon caught a glimpse of colour before Tim presented his arm with a flourish. </p><p>On the inside of his wrist, over the pulse point, was a small posy of what Jon thought were pansies, stems entwined, outlined in black. Behind them was a watercolour wash of blue, pink and purple, bright splodges and splatters of colour that arced up as far as his inner elbow. </p><p>“Oh, that’s - that’s lovely,” Jon said, startled to find he really meant it, leaning in close to get a better look. </p><p>“Thanks, Jon.” Tim nodded his head towards the lapel of Jon’s jacket again. “I like yours, too. Smart. They’re very, you know… ace of you.” </p><p>For a moment Jon just stared at him, straight-faced, while his brain caught up. They’d been talking about his pins, about their shared symbols, why would he - </p><p>Oh! </p><p>The laughter burst out of Jon before he could stop it, rusty giggles he couldn’t properly stifle behind his hands. Tim, when he glanced at him, was grinning even wider, every bit as smug as the cat that got the cream. And the canary, too. </p><p>“That was awful,” Jon protested, despite the strangled chuckles still trying to escape from behind the mock scowl. </p><p>“Hey, come on! That was an ace joke, admit it!” </p><p>“Tiiiiim!” Jon groaned at the continued punnish onslaught. “You should be fired for that. I’m firing you.” </p><p>“Well, when you’re my boss, you can.” </p><p>Jon, mouth still pulled into a grin, huffed at him. As the giggling subsided, though, Tim’s face softened, and he jostled Jon’s shoulder gently with his own. </p><p>“But seriously. It’s good to know you’re not alone, you know? So. Thanks for wearing them.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Jon agreed, a lump forming in his throat. “Yeah, it is.” </p><p>“And I’ve got your back on the other front. Okay?” Tim’s face, serious and earnest, made Jon’s chest tighten with emotion. </p><p>“... thank you, Tim. And - and you too.” Fearing the moment was veering into sentimentality, Jon let a wry smile slide across his face. “Bi-ace solidarity. Gotta stick together.” </p><p>“Damn straight we do!” There was a beat of silence. “Well. Maybe not straight…” Tim’s expression of exaggerated concentration kept the smile on Jon’s face all the way home and through his front door. Maybe he’d keep the coat. Maybe. It was getting cold outside, afterall.</p>
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